Flashback [Various] The Undeniably Painful

[Aoren]

It was perhaps one of the oddest things getting helped into the warm jacket belonging to the man with the golden eyes. The coat was warm. It smelled of wild things to be found on land and spiced with the salty essence of the sea. There was another scent there that washed over Aoren that he could only assume was Caelum’s own scent. Warmth and sunshine mixed with earth and rain. It was comforting. A slight blush crept onto Aoren’s face as Caelum fussed over him. That was the only word Aoren could come up with to describe it.

Caelum’s fussing.

It was mildly amusing to watch. Through it all the Drykas young man remained quiet and compliant to the physician’s requests. He waited patiently as instructed watching as the golden eyed man paid for Dominac Ariva’s services as well as his patience. Curiosity piqued as Aoren caught sight of the package tucked under Caelum’s arm as he returned to his side. Despite the invitation to lean on him, Aoren remained mostly upright. He gave Caelum an apologetic smile.

“Call it pride.” There was the slightest shrugging of shoulders but he accompanied the man without much hesitation. Nodding to the left he signaled for Caelum to follow the corridor leading to the common area of the shops.

“Go left, down the following corridor then follow the main hall until we reach the great stairs leading to the next tier.” Navigating Syliras could be horribly confusing for an outsider. The whole of the city was one immense castle that housed thousands of people. One corridor could look exactly like the next. One apartment, whether it be a business, a common hall, or a private residence, might look like another. Having grown up in the city the young man was very certain of his way around. He shifted his weight so that he wasn’t leaning too heavily upon Caelum and walked as even with his pace as possible.

“You are not from Syliras.” It wasn’t a question. “Most people in the city wouldn’t speak to Dominac Ariva like that. Not that I mind. He’s a grumpy, dirty old man but mostly harmless. If a bit intimidating.” Aoren flashed Caelum a smile.

“Thank you, for your help. I guess I am more injured than I realized.” As they neared the larger common corridor where dozens of people walked this way and that either chatting, conducting business or simply scurrying to this part of the castle or another, Aoren nodded his head toward the far end of the corridor.

“That way. If we take that corridor we’ll only need to turn a few times to reach the Maiden District and from there my apartment.” The knights were nothing if not efficient in their construction of the great Fortress. The blue eyed young man studied Caelum’s profile for a moment. A question surfaced its way to his lips but he refrained from asking it. What was Caelum? In all of his years in the Fortress City he had never once laid eyes upon a man like the physician currently standing beside him. He would have asked but somehow he felt that would have been a rude thing to do. So for the moment he kept his attention on where they were headed as well as preventing himself from being too much of a burden on the man presently supporting some of his body weight.

[Caelum]

Aoren received Caelum’s easy assent when he remained mostly upright. It was largely a matter of comfort and, as such, Caelum allowed his patient to dictate the terms of his own transport. He had found in his short years back on Mizahar that the majority of people, finding themselves ill or injured, preferred to maintain as much self-agency as possible. Rarely was it in their power to control the extent of their injuries, the vagaries of their disease, or the convalescence and consequence of either; therefore, they held on to what they could, be it the choice of their physician or a degree of independence while walking through the covered corridors of the Fortress City of Peace. “No, I’m not from here,” Caelum confirmed. He kept an arm about Aoren, but it was loose. His hand was ready to catch should the young Drykas falter, but otherwise he merely kept his pace relaxed and slow while they navigated the strange streets of Syliras. “And, to be honest, you couldn’t convince me to stay. Too many walls and not enough sky.” He paused as they turned a corner and steered them out of the path of knot of people. “Why wouldn’t someone speak to Ariva like that? Are you suggesting most people are more polite than me?” His smile sharpened toward a smirk and humor glinted in his eyes. They were old though his body was young, far younger in fact than even Aoren. This flesh had come with his fall no more than four years previous, though his spirit was old beyond mortal reckoning. As they walked he made a study of the people surrounding them, marking the routes of their egress to and from the business of their lives. He largely ignored the strange and occasionally startled looks he and his patient received, accustomed to being an object of attention and curiosity. It only caused him to feel more claustrophobic, and he yearned for a glimpse of the sky. He correctly interpreted Aoren’s regard by association with the similar faces shown him by the masses, but he failed to give in to it. He was not interested in elaborating on the well-worn mysteries of his presence and presentation in this place. There were times he felt he could feel eyes like beetles, skittering over his horns, his flesh, as they might in whatever grave he had been robbed from by Syna’s favor. “Do you live alone?” He asked as they made one of the last in a series of turns. “Will there be anyone to assist you?”

[Aoren]

Aoren had suspected as much. The sheer distaste written all over Caelum’s face as they walked through the halls of Syliras made it very clear that he had no liking for the Fortress City. It was always interesting to Aoren to see how different people reacted to Syliras. Some found it a haven against the troubles of the world. Living in the sheltered walls built by the Knights, the castle fortress stood stalwart against weather and danger amid a world of conflict. There were others of course who just found it overly crowded, terribly stuffy, smelly and restrictive in its laws.

Such was the price of a safe haven.

“Most people go into the shop, do their business as quickly as possible and leave.” Aoren gave Caelum a slight smirk. The proprietor of The Undeniable Interests was renowned for his gruff attitude, sometimes dirty jibes, and of course his fair negotiating skills. Curmudgeonly as the gentleman might have been he was at least a decent businessman. He also had an uncanny ability to acquire exactly what one was looking for.

“I do live alone but my…” Aoren paused as he searched for the right word to describe the young woman who would be visiting him later that day. “…sister will be stopping by later this evening.”

That was certainly an appropriate word. His kin by all reasoning save blood, Ileera was there for him when no one else was. Of course her duties as a Squire to the Knighthood had begun to force her to depart the city more often than Aoren would have liked but at the same time it was encouraging him to venture out a bit more on his own. Nevertheless he was always happy with her return whenever she finished a patrol or errand for the Knighthood. He was always the first person she came to see after reporting to her Patron. She meant the world to Aoren. She and one other person made up his family.

“It will be several bells before she arrives though. Turn down this corridor. My apartment is the twelfth door on your left.” They had finally reached the hall where Aoren’s apartment lay. He had lived there for less than a year but already it was very homey to him. When they reached the door he withdrew a key from the pocket of his trousers opening the door. Stepping across the threshold Aoren was happy to be home. He left the door open for Caelum to come inside if he so chose. Aoren’s walk was much slower than he would have liked. Though the full brunt of the pain he’d been feeling earlier had subsided due to Caelum’s interventions there was still some mild ache. He also did not want to jostle himself and risk doing something even more stupid than he already had.

Aoren’s gaze drifted over to the otherworldly man his eyes settling on an elaborate mark at the base of Caelum’s neck. It was impossible to construe that it was drawn by mortal hands. The detail and beauty of it was parallel to he who bore it. Aoren did not comment on it though he was certain his study of the mark did not go unnoticed. It got him thinking of his own mark, the Lily of Avalis. Caelum had remarked on it earlier a fact that had made the young man a little uncomfortable. That discomfort though soon evaporated. Glancing from his hearth to the open door Aoren realized it would be impolite to leave the apartment dark and uninviting.

“Ah, let me, uh, brighten up the place.” Stepping toward the door that he might grab one of the torches from the corridor to light his hearth Aoren suddenly felt a dizziness take hold of him mid-stride. He stumbled in his step tipping forward and in that moment of disorientation the world shifted in front of him…

NoteOhhhh! What happened? Mwahaha! Find out next post!

[Caelum]

"It's good that your sister will be coming by," Caelum replied. "Do you think she might stay the night? I would much prefer if you weren't left alone for the next day or so. The less you move around the better once we get you tucked into bed." He studied Aoren's apartment with faint curiosity and found it to be not unlike the other handful of Syliras homes he had been invited into during the course of his stay here. Sensing his patient's gaze, he turned his head to look at him and his free hand unconsciously rose up to rub over the Chevas mark that swirled down the side of his throat. It was pale gold and sunfire, depicting at once both wings and flames in an act of simultaneous defeat and triumph. Ultimately, it was the perfect allegorical depiction of the nature of Caelum's relationship with his wife Lillis. "It's the mark of the goddess Cheva, goddess of love and vows and marriage and whatnot," he explained. His mouth hooked to one side, crooked with self deprecation. The act somehow softened his expression, though, doubtless with the conjuring of his beloved's face. "I share it with my wife, Lillis. We live together in Zeltiva. She rarely travels with me when I'm on errand, after things." A shrug rolled loose through his shoulders and he shoved a hand back through winter blooded hair when Aoren moved away the protective support of his arm. He understood the man's need to be independent, but he kept a careful eye on his back. "Yes, good idea with a fire. I'll need light in order too -- petch." Caelum reacted swiftly to Aoren losing his balance. He jumped forward, limbs trained in combat and kept strong atop a horse and by the grace of Syna reacting quickly. He caught the young man from the front, having angled to place himself between Aoren and his fall to the floor. An arm caught him about the shoulders and the other about his waist even as Aoren sagged. He staggered back a single step, grunting beneath his weight and the backs of his boots clipping against the hearth stones. Giving a few ticks for his heart to cease seizing, Caelum proceeded to shift his hold on Aoren so that he could reach down and scoop an arm underneath the man's knees. Grimacing with the effort, he nonetheless managed to lift Aoren into his arms and carry him the scarce feet to the bed in the corner. Settling him gently down onto his back, Caelum's eyes spilled over his pale face. One hand went to Aoren's wrist to monitor his heart rate. He scowled, unhappy with this turn of events, and bent over Aoren in order to undo the buttons of his borrowed coat and make the man more comfortable. Besides, he needed the medicines stored within.

[Aoren]

Drifting through the unearthly realm between the gods and mortals was something Aoren had become accustomed to over time. What he could never grow used to was the abrupt out of body experience that came with the onset of a sudden vision. For the briefest of moments he watched his own body fall. A breath later magnificent constructs of light burst into being around him. Rising before his eyes was a cascading display of light likened to the rising of the dawn against the backdrop of and endless night. Golden hues, radiant oranges, fiery reds that twirled into intricate patterns of starbursts struck Aoren with such awe it took his breath away.

And then he was speeding forward diving into the fabric of the great Chavi before him to bear witness to what it was the Lily demanded he See.

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The pop of wood bursting under kiss of flames was what drew Aoren into awareness. He stood just on the edge of the ring of light cast by a campfire. Around the fire were several men all with grim expressions on their faces. One of the men shifted prodding the base of the flames with a stick to stoke the fire. He was older with graying hair that fell down his shoulders in thick dreads. What appeared to be beads could be seen in his hair along with a silver piercing in his left ear. He and the men around him had a very earthly appearance. With strong shoulders and whipcord muscles decorated with stylized tattoos over bear flesh, Aoren could tell immediately these men were Drykas. The apparel, the knotwork in their hair and on their skin as well as the distinguishing wind marks in some places were all he needed to know.

"We should--" Another man spoke up breaking the silence that pervaded the dark. He was immediately cut off by the grey haired man.

"We wait." The other man huffed but remained silent. It was not long after that a rustling came from the wilderness behind Aoren. Before he could turn to face the oncoming stranger the figure walked right through Aoren. While a little startling it was not uncommon. Aoren was but an unseen visitor baring witness to a time long gone. As soon as this figure stepped into the light the others gathered rose to their feet. All except the man with the grey hair. He kept tending the fire. As soon as the newcomer appeared he was greeted.

"Kasb'el." One of the men clasped the newcomer on the shoulder.

Kasb'el. The name resonated with Aoren. It held power. It held meaning but Aoren wasn't around to find out the truth of what it meant. The men began speaking and though he was able to pick out bits and pieces of the conversation he could not make out everything. They were speaking in Pavi, a language he only had a basic understanding of. The scene faded however yielding itself to a brighter landscape. A young man astride a great horse. He rode alongside a woman. Both seemed quite happy gliding through the fields.

"Kasb'el!" She shouted over galloping of the horses. Her laughter ringing clear as a bell through the winds. Visions began to come one after the other. The common factor? The man's name.

As quickly as the visions came they quickly receded. Aoren was being sped forward in time until...

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Aoren came back to himself with a start. His breath rushed into his lungs as he returned to awareness of the present time. He looked around breathing heavily wincing at the strange feeling in his chest. It didn't hurt but it did not feel right. When his cobalt eyes found Caelum's golden ones a single word whispered its way out of his mouth.

"Kasb'el."

[Caelum]

Undressing an unconscious person required more practice than most people wanted to admit. As a physician, this was a situation he had long since been forced to learn how best to handle. The other option was to cut the clothes off of his patients which, when the circumstances were less than life threatening, tended to win him irate lectures in the mornings. Caelum was in the habit of avoiding irate lectures whenever possible. He hadn't the patience for them. That in mind, he gripped Aoren's shoulder firmly and lifted him inch by inch rather than altogether and in that fashion ultimately managed to peel the young man out of his jacket. The jacket, once liberated, was clutched to his chest almost protectively while he peered down at Aoren. He traced the evidence of his pulse in his throat and the color in his cheeks before turning to sling the jacket over the back of a chair and promptly go rummaging through the pockets. Another glance was cast his patient before he crossed to the hearth and in relatively short order he had the coals catching toward fresh wood on the fire and a kettle put on to boil. By the time Aoren woke up with a wince, Caelum was bent back over him. Only this time he was prying the shoes off of his feet and setting them neatly on the floor, side by side, with their battered toes tucked politely half under the bed. He nudged at once with his boot to line it up more precisely with its companion and looked up from that to watch Aoren open his eyes. Eyebrows shot up with mild surprise. "No, Caelum," he corrected and laid a hand firmly on his shoulder. "Stay down, Aoren. It makes it easier for the blood to circulate and bring fresh oxygen to your brain. You fainted." The name Kasb'el was not one Caelum had ever heard. It bore no likeness to that name caught in his mind in the celestial language that set traps for his tongue. His ethaefal name haunted him as a perfect, clear representation of self. Of course, he was not allowed to know himself. All of his lives, his entire memory, had shredded in his descent into the cold, dark waters off the coast of Black Rock. It was only the vaguest, most bare recollections of his life as a Drykas horselord that plagued his dreams and those were not even his most compelling nightmares. Facts spilled through his fingers like sand in a bell glass, incapable of being kept. It left him with handfuls of nothing. So little, in fact, that he did not recognize his own name.

[Aoren]

The young man felt as if he were still in the midst of a dream. Aoren blinked at Caelum for a few moments as comprehension sank in. He slowly began to realize that he was no longer in the grassy plains of the Drykas people. With that realization came a bitter sadness. He longed to know those places. The part of him that ached to be with and among his people throbbed in his chest. So much so that he was forced to take a deep breath.

Nope.

The strange, stunted feeling of the bindings around his chest brought him back to full reality. Perhaps that is where the throb had come from. Not the longing to know his people but his cracked ribs. At Caelum’s hand upon his shoulder the young man’s hand came up to rest atop the golden eyed doctor’s. He resisted the push remaining propped up on an elbow.

“No. Kasb’el. That was his name. A man of the Horseclans. With dark hair braided and knotted. Marks decorating his skin telling the stories of his life. Sun bars…” Without even thinking Aoren reached up. The hand bearing the Seer’s Lily came to hover lightly just in front of Caelum’s left eye. “…here.”

Aoren shifted. He sat up straighter bringing his marked hand down to Caelum’s right forearm.

“Creeping vines here.” His hand moved to the other forearm.

“Knot work and grassland symbols here.” Dropping his hand Aoren’s gaze remained somewhat unfocused. It was quite obvious that he was pondering something very intently. A look of sadness entered his young face.

“He seemed…sad. Whoever he was.” By now it would have become very apparent that Aoren had not fainted. The Gift of Avalis had visited upon him a glimpse of what others could not see. Aoren had received a vision. The details of it were slightly scattered and confusing to Aoren. He didn’t entirely understand why he’d received the vision or how it related to his present life but with time and meditation he believed he would find out. After a few more moments the Drykas teenager returned fully to the world of the here and now, no longer quite so ensconced in what he’d Seen.

“Are you alright?” Utterly oblivious to the oddity of the situation, Aoren inquired after Caelum’s well-being despite his own state of affairs. His chest was fine for the time being. The earlier medicine certainly helping to take the edge off of things. The bindings were also doing a good job of mitigating any uncomfortable shifting.

[Caelum]

The physician stood wordless while Aoren described the man Kasb'el whom he had seen in his vision. When Aoren sat up, he opened his mouth to protest, but whatever it was he had been about to say dissipated in his mouth and blistered his tongue to silence. Aoren's hand spilled down his forearm, one and then the other, and it left a trail of warmth behind on golden marble skin. It felt not unlike the grace of his Bright Lady, but perhaps that was due to the slow dimming glow of the Seer's Lily emblazoned upon his patient's hand. With every word, Aoren described the windmarks that littered Caelum's own body whensoever the sun set and night fell. They bespoke of both a life and a language that was still as foreign to him as as the pits of far off Kalinor. He could no more envision himself in toe silk-veined cave beneath Kalea than he could strider-back and flying through the grasses of Cyphrus. Of course, he was not haunted nightly by the face of a Symenestra. No. The face that followed him in the moonlight was that of a long dead Drykas, and one about whom he knew less than nothing. Slowly, he turned about and sank to a seat on the edge of Aoren's bed. His elbows found his thighs and he sagged forward, lowering his head into his hands. Long, clever fingers worked back through the golden brown spill of his wintering hair and smoothed over the glass like structure of his right horn. It was warm to the touch. Eyes lifted a little to watch the flames of the hearthfire he had laid in mere chimes previous and he exhaled. Slowly. Then he breathed in again. "Yeah," he muttered eventually. "I'm alright. It's just you're talking about me, Aoren." He turned his head, forearms resting on his thighs now, to look at his patient, the young Seer with a set of badly bruised ribs. "When night falls and Leth rises, I change forms and take on the seeming of my last life before ascension into Syna's Goldenlands. That, at least, is what I have been told. But, you see, I have no memory of that life. I didn't realize.. It didn't occur to me, rather.. that anyone would ever be able to tell me his name." Golden eyes met blue. "But you just did."

[Aoren]

Watching Caelum sink to the bed with shoulders weighed down as if with some terrible burden made Aoren’s heart clench. It never sat right with the young man to see someone emit such infinite weariness. The sigh that escaped his lips, the distant gaze that turned to the embers crackling in the hearth, all told Aoren that he was considering some very poignant news. When Caelum spoke, Aoren realized just how heavy that news was.

“Oh.” What an understatement. In light of the situation what more could Aoren say?

“Oh, by the way, I saw you with a bunch of people who you seemed to love and cherish but know nothing of! Have a nice day!”

The Drykas fidgeted. He wasn’t sure where to go from there as Caelum’s eyes met his. So he did all he felt he could at that point in time. Reaching forward he lay a hand on the physician’s shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I Saw a number of things. It was mostly just glimpses into small portions of this man’s…err…your past life. The one thing that stood out from them was his, well, your name.” Dropping his hand from Caelum’s shoulder Aoren shifted in the bed bringing himself into a more comfortable upright position. He brought his knees up to his chest resting his forearms at their tops. He lay his chin lightly atop his arms studying the other man intently in the silence that lingered on between them. Aoren searched the planes of Caelum’s face for some clue as to what he was thinking right then and there. When no insight was forthcoming he was struck with a thought.

“You say you don’t know Kasb’el. Would you like to?” As the thought formed more solidly in Aoren’s mind he felt certain it was the right thing to do. This was why Avalis had nudged him toward the vision. He was sure of it. He was to help Caelum reconnect with himself. It was not often that Aoren offered to others the gift of a vision. While he had been asked a number of times by those who were aware of the blessing that had been bestowed upon him, it was nothing something he freely broadcasted. He never refused but he seldom volunteered to wander the halls of the Chavena.

“It is the least that I can do to repay you for your kindness. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come along?” Illeera was going to scold him something fierce once she arrived. There was no hiding his stubbornness from her. She would know immediately that he had tried to tough through what he should have sought treatment for.